Dib's Christmas List
by Dibsthe1
Summary: Cooling down after another frustrating incident with Zim, Dib makes up his ideal Christmas wish lists. Checking it twice... references, but nope, no actual violence in this one!


Disclaimer: There is no Santa Claus... at least not as you understood him as a child... and I do not own Invader Zim. Jhonen Vasquez does.

Hey, whaddya know, I found something after all! Many special thanks are going out to my good friend **OniHime** for Dib's Christmas present!

Sorry about the false alarm... I mistakenly put this up as an addition to my last fic instead of a new story. But everyone makes mistakes... all except the mighty ZI-II-IIIM!

Speaking of which... I'm not too sure how I wrote Zim, so would you please tell me how I did with him? Thanks!

I wish you all joyous holidays and stockings full of IZ stuff!

**Dib's Christmas List**

Dib pivoted around in his room once more, absolutely baffled and growing even more frustrated with each passing minute. Where on this planet could it possibly BE? His mind whirling from that day's latest incident with Zim, the last thing he needed right now was yet another puzzle.

When Dib had awakened that morning after an unforgettable evening of watching movies with his father, (trying the whole time not to keep one ear open for ominous noises from outside) he fell over himself getting to the window. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and no fleet of interstellar destroyers was hovering above... just like any other morning.

And when Dib ran to check the kitchen window, the morning traffic was flowing exactly the same way it always had, as if no space alien had ever arrived to scout the territory for an invasion.

Dib wiped his forehead and resumed breathing at a less frantic rate. "Whew! There's still time!"

"Of course there's 'still time', idiot!" said Gaz, over her cereal. "You've never gotten out of bed this early before!"

But it wasn't long before the unnerving possibility of alien conquest was once more rearing its green and poorly disguised head. Zim "accidentally" let slip something about having unleashed a cloud of poison gas upon the filthy doomed heads of the humans... and when Dib put two and two together, the onion-like layers of irony paralysed him. Was this coincidence?... or had Zim been the one to cause the gas leak at his father's lab? ...and if he was, it was Zim who Dib had to thank for that evening... but that could have harmed... even killed... his father! Or maybe Zim was just making the whole thing up to paralyse him by trying to figure out all that stuff while Zim went off doing something even more deadly for real... but how would he know about the gas leak if he hadn't really... Dib finally screamed. From that day on, nothing about his life would ever again be straightforward.

Dib grew tenser and more anxious with each passing day, until finally, one day he simply ran out of room for his fear to expand any further. At that point, he simply resigned himself to the fact that alien conquest would be a looming possibility from now on.

Almost immediately after landing on this filthy planet, Zim had given in to the temptation to scare the living brainmeats out of one of these pitiful doomed earth stinks just for the thrill of it. He'd prowled up to one of them, one who was standing next to a sign covered with those primitive earth symbols, and ordered him to surrender to an Elite Invader from an advanced planet or face certain agonizing DOOM! The earth being had given him an "Are you for real?" look before replying, "Yeah right," and going right back to scratching his butt while staring up the street and saying, "Damn bus. Late again."

The earth being did not seem the least bit perturbed by the idea of his planet being taken over, but Zim would not be denied his scaring-the-living-brainmeats-out-of! As often as he tried to do so, however, he kept getting responses of "Uh huh," or "I'm sure," or "Whatever." With that as his sole interaction with most people, Zim was still largely unfamiliar with the human concept of sarcasm. The alien believed that saying one thing while meaning another, often with hostile intent, was an eccentricity unique to that Dib being.

This weak-kneed, soft bellied planet was turning out to be an even bigger pushover than the couch planet Vort! For any other Irken, an easy planet would have indicated the respect of the Tallests. This one however, saw it differently. This was an insult to the boundless military genius of ZIM! How could Zim be a mighty invading conqueror if the meatstinks on this planet just lay down without first giving him anything TO conquer? Nothing was impressive about simply asking a planetful of filthy earthstinks if it was okay if you conquered them and they just smiled and nodded! And everything Zim did had to be impressive! How could it not be? He was ZIM!

The only human who showed the slightest inclination to give him a fight, ANY kind of a fight, was but a smeet... that repulsive Dib monkey.

Now, the day before Christmas holidays began, instead of even pretending to eat his lunch, Zim came over to Dib and kept breathing into his face in that shudderingly otherworldly voice of his, "PITIFUL human worm-baby! Your puny planet has ALREADY surrendered to save itself from the doom of tortures far advanced beyond its worst NIGHTMA-AA-AAARES!"

But by now, Zim would have to do a lot more than merely rant to get Dib scared. Dib now made a face at him as he reached for his milk.

Anticipating that Dib was going to hurl the liquid at him, Zim grabbed the milk first and threw it over Dib, with the hasty and ill-considered expectation that the milk would have the same effect on Dib's exterior that it would have on his own.

His sole opponent destroyed! Zim leaped on to the table in front of Dib, raised his fists and cackled wildly. "VICTOR-E-EE-EEE!! THEPLANETISMINE!!! "

Dib wiped the milk off his face with his sleeve and sighed, his irritation snowballing."If you can actually believe that, Zim, you're even stupider than I first thought!"

"None of these other less filthy human stink children even bother to dispute the point with ZI-II-IIIM! Kneel down NOW to my amazing incredibleness, filthiest human Dib-stink, and you will be exterminated with just slightly LESS agony than you will be OTHERWI-ISE! Kneel! KNEEL! I said KNEE-EE-EEEL!!"

"Or what? Or you'll give me a milk bath?" Dib sneered. "You can't even figure out we just have too much sense to bow down to you, and you think you've already taken over the planet? Give me a break!"

"Zim WILL INDEE-EE-EED give you a break... in your very large head... right before I scoop out all of your disgusting brainmeats, insolent fool boy!" Zim sneered. "This pitiful planet is just BEGGING to be taken over! All week wretched clusters of them have gathered to surrender right at the very door of ZI-II-IIIM!"

At this, Dib laughed so loudly that all heads turned to see what was so funny. Seeing nothing, a few of the skoolchildren shot spitballs at Dib, who never did notice much of anything else whenever he was arguing with the green kid.

"I highly doubt that, Zim. The oxygen content of the air on this planet must be too rich for whatever you're using for a brain!"

"They begged ZIM to allow them to even speak!" Zim continued. "The very first thing from their disgusting human mouths was, 'Let us adore Zim,'! They sang about glory and worship and praise at my very DO-OO-OOOR! I spared their worthless human lives for recognizing a superior being when they see me. After this ball of filth is subjugated, they will make perfectly substandard slaves."

Nothing Dib could say could convince Zim that they had simply been carolling, something his people went around doing at everybody's door every year at this same time, and that the very LAST thing they were adoring was some alien!

To prove that he was rapidly nearing the status of completely unquestioned overlord of this planet, Zim had dared Dib to accompany him to the nearest corner store after skool, a challenge which Dib readily took him up on.

For all his own planet's advanced scientific knowledge, and for all his study of local science, Zim had not thought it necessary to learn much about the social norms of planet earth. For one thing, Zim considered store clerks the ultimate authority on this planet. Whatever you wanted, they had, and only they could give it to you. If you bypassed the ritual that they required, a mere formality of exchanging some papers and metal discs, you were in BIG trouble. Shop clerks were surely the Elite of this planet; where the Irkens obeyed their Tallest, earth apparently took its orders from the Richest. Maybe after the Great Impending Subjugation these Richest could all be shipped to Foodcourtia where, parted from their minions, they finally could be put to some actual use.

Dib and Zim argued the whole way to the store until they ended up before a display of deep fried snacks, the closest approximation to Irken foodstuffs Zim had been able to locate.

Zim whipped around to point a clawlike finger at the clerk behind the counter, an old man in a striped apron. "YOU! PITY-FULL HUMA-AA-AAN!" he screaked. "I have invaded from a vastly superior planet to take over this worthless stinking ball of DI-II-IIIRT! BOW DOWN before the mighty stomping BOOT of ZI-II-IIIM! I COMMAND you to hand over food to your superior CONQUERO-OR!" His raving finished, Zim closed his eyes and held out both his hands as if the least he expected to be given was the key to the place.

Dib barely managed to restrain himself from exploding with laughter at his own triumph. Zim had told an adult he was an alien without Dib's lifting a finger! Eagerly Dib waited for the man behind the counter to pick up the phone and call the police, if not the men in the white coats; once Zim was behind bars with nobody to bail him out, Dib could take his sweet time notifying the Eyeballs.

In any other corner store, something like that probably would have transpired. However, it just happened that the old man behind the counter of this particular old-fashioned mom and pop operation was actually the shop's owner as well. In addition to this, he was a doting grandfather whose grandchildren had recently outgrown the fantasy play stage which he had adored so much and never wanted to see end. They had played all the usual games, cowboys and Indians, cops and robbers... and spacemen vs. aliens.

Zim strutted triumphantly out of the store holding the bag of deep fried pork rinds the clerk had submissively allowed him to choose without the paper ritual, as behind him Dib just stood there with his mouth hanging open with no words coming out of it for once. "Yet another victory for ZI-II-IIIM!" that grinding, inhuman voice declared all the way down the street, to no one's notice.

Now, as Dib paced back and forth, back and forth in his room, his brain boiled furiously inside his skull. Without at least a brief reprieve from agonizing over not only that lousy alien but how infuriatingly difficult his fellows kept making his task, Dib was certain he would go insane... but not being able to find the very thing he was looking for wasn't helping matters one bit.

At the time of the transmission warning him of Zim's arrival a few weeks previously, Dib's most compelling paranormal project was figuring out what historic atrocity he could have possibly committed in a past life for him to end up with the sister he had in this one. About halfway through a thick, comprehensive, and thoroughly documented but fascinating volume on Past Lives, Dib found himself facing a literally world class emergency. However, the last time he set this book aside, he had fully meant to resume reading it at some point.

Dib searched all through his stacks of books, of which there were many, before emptying his wardrobe and going through all its contents with a fine-toothed comb. Finally he looked under the bed, and when the book was still nowhere to be found, Dib, more frustrated than ever, kicked the bedpost a couple of times. Few of his own mistakes irritated Dib as much as misplacing something, but by now he was beginning to believe that this item was gone forever. Had it been thrown out accidentally? It was always he who took out the trash, but he'd never throw this out! And while Gaz never bothered much with household chores, if it belonged to Dib she considered it fair game for the garbage.

His perplexity increasing, Dib turned around once more, pushing a hand through his hair. He knew he could always buy another copy or request an interlibrary loan, but neither stores nor libraries would be open tomorrow... Christmas Day.

Finally Dib headed to the kitchen to pour himself a mug of eggnog. Returning, he sat on his bed and sipped the cool and vaguely spicy liquid, trying to relax by thinking of something other than his mysteriously missing book.

This would most likely be the last Christmas he would experience as a child, sitting back and simply enjoying it. Next year he would be shovelling driveways or doing something similar to buy Christmas presents. He had thought of doing that this year, actually, but the first big snowfall had come too late for him to make anywhere near enough money in time.

For now, though, his father had a few weeks ago given both him and Gaz $50 each with which to do their Christmas shopping. The mere mention of the name Santa Claus upset the Professor so much that he strictly forbade any such thing as a stocking to be hung in the house on Christmas Eve. Though he himself cared little about Christmas, the Professor did want to make certain both his children got a present, just in case he himself forgot the Day again this year.

At first, Dib had been puzzled by the question of what to get for his father. Whatever the Professor wanted, he already had or could easily invent. A sentimental present was definitely the way to go here.

Dib had finally gone to a clay craft shop called Feat of Clay and selected a wide bottomed, spill-proof mug which he painted with the words "World's Greatest Dad." However, he got so carried away painting the words "World's Greatest" that no space remained for the word "Dad." Dib painted that word on the other side of the mug, hoping that if his father opened his present somewhere other than with him and Gaz, he would still notice.

Before wrapping the finished mug, Dib had filled it with popcorn kernels, a reminder of that memorable evening when they had together watched back to back movies, the most time they had spent together in years.

The only gift Gaz was certain to appreciate was easy to figure out... a video game. The only trouble was that giving her a second copy of a game she already had would certainly get him beaten up, and he had no way of keeping track of which games she already had. Asking Gaz this question only got her to rattle off a long list of unfamiliar and bizarre sounding names so rapidly he couldn't possibly take note of more than two or three. When he tried asking her again, the very idea of repeating herself was enough to ignite fires in Gaz's eyes.

Dib didn't dare sneak into Gaz's room to check over her huge collection; of the many things Dib could do that angered Gaz, few were more foolhardy than for him to venture anywhere near her room. He had very little opportunity to run even that risk; Gaz almost never went out, preferring to stay inside playing her games hour after hour.

Dib thought of buying Gaz a gift card, but was none too confident she would receive it in the spirit in which it was offered. He could all too easily visualize Gaz's eyes glowing with rage. "A gift card, Dib? You expect me to actually GO and PICK OUT my OWN GIFT?" she would very probably growl before beating him up.

Dib's next idea was to buy several used games at the second hand video game store Bonus Round. This would not only allow him to get more games with the same amount of money, but increase his chances of selecting a title she didn't already have. But again, all too easily, Dib could visualize Gaz's face darkening with anger. "USED games, Dib? USED??" she would most likely howl... before beating him up.

Gaz sure wasn't much for conversation. Whenever she was displeased, unhappy, or even slightly disappointed for ANY reason, she leaped straight into the most unmistakable way possible of letting you know.

Finally, on his way home from skool on Christmas Eve, by which time the dilemma had worn his nerves ragged, Dib went to the electronics department of MaulWart and bought a new game, one that the clerk assured him was so new it had come in only that morning. "And is it really violent, and noisy, and bloody and stuff?"

"Ohhh, yes!" said the clerk. "Everything a boy like you could want!"

"Actually, it's for my sister," Dib explained, and got a dirty look.

After wrapping the game, Dib hid it in his room... carefully. Just because he was under threat of bodily harm for darkening the floor of Gaz's room didn't mean she wasn't about to come swaggering into HIS room any old time she felt like it...

Dib was confident that with the funds at his disposal he had made the best possible choices in gifts. Still seeking to keep his mind off the many frustrations of the day, Dib now prepared to allow his mind to roam over a list of gifts he would buy for his father and sister if he had unlimited funds at his disposal, and what he would request for himself if there really was a Santa Claus.

Dib stepped to his desk and set down the empty mug. He allowed his gaze to linger on his favorite photos which he'd taped to the wall over his computer, the ones of himself and his father watching television, the ones he had taken to prove that he had not simply imagined that evening. Dib picked up a pencil and notepad before tucking himself back into his pillow. Condensation was building up from the corners of his window, which meant that outside, the temperature was dropping; Dib's warm bed felt even cozier. He opened the notepad and began to write.

For the world, well, it was a little bit late to wish for its safety from alien invaders. "Making sure the world gets no less safe" would be Dib's Christmas gift to it. Realizing that this would be also make a good New Year's resolution, Dib started this new list on the next page.

Even in the realm of fantasy, whenever Dib thought of something his father would really enjoy... his own lab in the basement, a studio, his own TV show... it was something he already had. _Whenever Dad can get the time to be with us, he has fun. Once the movie came on and he started telling me what his college was like, he forgot all about the gas leak back at the lab. _

Under "To Dad," Dib described a magic clock, one which doubled the number of hours in each day, so that the Professor could work in his lab and have his TV show, as well as spend time with his family. _I'll keep my paranormal studies for when Dad goes back to work, and when he's with me, we'll go fishing, and play catch, and do what Dad calls "real science" like all the other fathers and sons do. _

The previous day, Dib now recalled, the boy next door and his father had together strung Christmas lights over their roof and all around their windows. When he could no longer bear to watch them, Dib had drawn the curtains. Upon opening them an hour later, he saw that his neighbours had also constructed two snowmen, one big and one small, in the adjoining yard. Dib sighed and pressed his lips together. Until the snow melted, he would be facing those two snowmen every time he went outside or came home.

One year when the Professor asked Dib what he wanted for Christmas, Dib replied that he wanted only one thing, and begged his father to please tell Gaz to stop beating him up whenever she got mad at him. When his father responded, "Well, what is it you want, son?" and continued waiting, Dib realized that his father wasn't thinking beyond material objects, so he answered, "A robot, please." So horribly did the Professor garble this message that Gaz received robots that she could tell to beat Dib up whenever she got mad at him.

The following Christmas when his father asked him what he wanted, Dib had a much more simple request. "A robot, please."

Shortly after this conversation, the Professor excitedly called Dib into his lab to show him something marvellous. Dib had raced in breathlessly... to see that his father had built a prototype robot which greatly resembled the world famous Professor Membrane, for all those unfortunate latchkey kids out there! It said things like "Brush... your... teeth! How... was... school? Do... your... homework. Make... your... bed," had a built in microwave and television, and could be programmed to tell bedtime stories at the appropriate hour. "Well son? What do you think?"

When Dib fell speechless with disappointment, the Professor said cheerfully, "Yes, son, I can tell how impressed you are! Just wait until all those poor latchkey kids get one of these next Christmas! They'll be as delighted as you are now!"

"From Dad." All Dib wanted in exchange was "Just be here sometimes." More realistically, Dib thought that even one more evening like that Double Feature movie night would do him just fine.

_For Gaz... a wide berth. No, that's what I give her all the time._ Dib chewed on his pencil._ A... a cage. With a padlock. And a "DANGER! Keep back 10 feet!" sign._ Dib snickered. _And a chair and a whip and a hoop and..._ Dib began to chuckle. _And fifty pounds of raw meat, with the bones still in and..._ Dib was laughing aloud now. _And when she had to go anywhere, manacles and leg irons and a straightjacket and a hockey mask type muzzle and a two wheeled dolly like Hannibal Lecter..._ Picturing his foul-tempered sister so safely restrained, Dib fell flat on his stomach shrieking with laughter until tears streamed from his eyes and his stomach ached.

He hastily stifled it when he heard Gaz screaming at him to "Shut up in there before I shut you up!"

Holding his breath, Dib cautiously sat up. _What IS her problem anyway?_ With no idea what he was laughing at, she would begrudge him even that much fun. Nothing had changed, Gaz was as intolerant and overbearing as ever... but somehow Dib felt better. Oh man, he'd needed that! It had been far too long since he enjoyed a really good gutbusting laugh. Dib flipped to the page of resolutions and wrote, "Laugh more!"

For Gaz... she never seemed happy, not even when Dib _wasn't_ looking at her the wrong way. When Dib first heard the term "anger management course," not surprisingly he thought it taught more spectacularly violent techniques for destroying objects and injuring people when you were angry. But the second he learned its true meaning, Dib knew that Gaz needed this far more than anybody ever needed anything. But that was a gift she had to be willing to receive... and Gaz steadfastly refused to believe that any of her problems with anybody, Dib included, could in any way possibly be the result of her own actions...

Dib finally decided that if he had all the money in the world, he'd build Gaz "A duplex with a video arcade on one side and a pizza restaurant on the other." On the other side of town, actually. A more realistic offering from the gift catalogue, something Gaz needed and might actually use, would be "A punching bag..." one _other_ than himself.

Now, FROM Gaz... Dib bit his lip, frowning. He stared at the pencil between his fingers, concentrating on keeping its edge in focus. _I want you to treat me like a human being once in a while. I'm tired of insults and beatings both at skool AND at home. _

_Next time I come home all bruised and bloody, just ask if I'm okay... like I do after you fall down because you're playing your GameSlave instead of watching where you're going... and before you beat me up for "babying" you. I promise I won't get mad. It would mean so much to me to know SOMEONE cares. And if I'm asking too much of you, then just ease up with the "Whiner!" _

_Gaz... I've got SO MUCH on my mind these days, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. Oh, wait. I do try to tell you, you just never want to listen. I'm not asking you to put yourself in danger; it would just make my life a whole lot easier if you could start doing at least some of your own chores. You're the same age now that I was last year when I was doing all the chores for both of us, so I KNOW I'm not asking too much._ _I'm only asking you to be..._ His throat tightened as he remembered the word their mother had tried so hard to impress on Gaz..._ fair. _

_I watch out for you every time we cross the street. I pick up everything you leave lying around while you just sit there playing. I remind you about your homework. I have never... not once... hit you back no matter WHAT you did to me. On top of all that, I'm keeping you safe from an alien menace you obviously don't even comprehend! Oh, I'm being your big brother, all right... but every coin has its other side... so where's my little sister? _Dib blinked, hard, as the pencil's edges began to grow soft._ Please, Gaz, that's what I really want... to finally find out what having a little sister is like!_

Dib would have no problem with Gaz coming along on the father-son outings he'd wished for, if she could just manage to remember that Dib had feelings too.

Dib looked over his list. _Hmmm. Dad spending more time with me and Gaz treating me half- decently once in a while. While I'm at it I may as well wish for Mom to stop by and cook Christmas dinner. _He decided to add a more realistic Christmas wish and immediately wrote "A robot." _There's something I just might actually GET... even though I'm still waiting._

Suddenly Dib's door swung open. He stiffened as Gaz stalked straight into his room as if it was her own. Reciprocity was not a courtesy she extended, only one she demanded.

She was holding out a hastily wrapped object.

"For me?" Dib gasped. "Wow, tha - "

"Where's mine."

Dib hastily dug out Gaz's gift, which she snatched out of his hand and instantly ripped the paper from. After glancing at the title she flipped it over to read the back. To Dib's relief she wasn't hitting him, so that meant she wasn't displeased. Without waiting for Dib to unwrap his gift, she turned to leave.

Dib called after her, "Enjoy your - " Gaz slowed. "PLEASE! PLEASE enjoy your game, Gaz?"

"That's 'game - **S'!**" she corrected him before slipping out, leaving his door open.

"Games"? Did that mean she wanted him to give her more than that one game? No, if she was in any way less than satisfied, she'd hardly be walking _away _from him right now.Oh well.

Dib sat on his bed again and began unwrapping the present Gaz had just - a present from GAZ? This was definitely a first! And not just any present; already he could tell it was a book, the very best "wrap up" present Dib could receive from anyone!

When the paper finally fell away, Dib stared in awe at what Gaz had given him for Christmas. "Past Lives: What Did I Ever Do To Deserve This?" Unbelievably, this came as a most timely replacement for the book he had weeks ago set aside, sometime between now and then had lost, and minutes earlier had been tearing his room apart to find!

In a sort of trance Dib opened the cover, and noticed writing on the inner leaf. Would it say, "Merry Christmas, Dib"? Or would it say something more like, "Lousy Christmas, Idiot"?

It simply said his own full name, followed by his email address... in his own handwriting. It actually WAS the same book.

At that point something slid down through the pages, coming to rest against his hand. Was it a gift card from a bookstore? Or at least a Christmas card? Considering the source, the latter would most likely be an insulting one.

It was a bookmark... one missing its tassel, its front faded and worn to whiteness in the corners, its back smudged... a bookmark with an alien head and a logo declaring, "I believe"... the very bookmark he'd been using all along. No, she hadn't even bought him a new bookmark. But at least, Dib thought, realizing he was really reaching now, she had left it at the same page where he stopped reading a few weeks earlier.

When had she taken it? From where? Why? Had she wrapped it today because she knew how much he wanted it? Or was she seeking to drive him crazy by - No. No more of this. His brain had wrestled with enough for one day. He would give it a rest by contemplating something much easier to understand, namely past lives.

With the book tucked securely under his arm, Dib returned to the kitchen for more eggnog. Back in his room, he fluffed up his pillow and propped it against the headboard before getting comfortable once more. Now more than ever, he wanted to find an answer to his question.

Dib took a gulp of eggnog, moved the bookmark aside and began to read. "When unwarranted and undeserved torments inexplicably continue to afflict your life... "

The End


End file.
